


Long Day's Journey into Night

by axona



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon - Manga, M/M, Manga Spoilers, Not Anime Compliant, Not Compliant with Chapter 108 to Current, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/axona/pseuds/axona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Like reverse wilting it had started so subtly, a fashion even demonic eyes could not track. The ache of his agonizing hunger had seemed to fade within the few mortal years he had spent with Ciel Phantomhive. A time barely long enough to count as a blink in the span of his existence. He did not comprehend the change, the proof that lay before his very eyes, tangible and real even to his damned not-soul. </p>
<p>His feathers were turning grey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reverse Rebirth - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Welcome to my first ever slow burn potential series starter! I was heavily inspired by quite a few of Sebastian's monologue words in the late manga chapters, some of which will be quoted almost directly and others that will be more subtly covered. I thought it would be incredibly fun to explore the more biblical religious themes that are only brushed upon in Kuroshitsuji, as well as the themes of Sebaciel and the still-shrouded explanations of Demons and Angels. Especially after that amazing Reaper reveal! 
> 
> There will be quite a few spoilers for the manga, and this is in no way anime compliant. Tags and rating will be updated with each new chapter to avoid spoiling the plot, so keep an eye out! However as a warning to those who are not a fan of underage, I've included that tag early because this WILL become an Explicit story. I hope you enjoy!

They were as familiar to him as the writhing blackness of his not-soul, the torturous flames of Hell’s bowels. They had existed upon and within him for as long as his immortal memory could recall, to the very beginning of his birth as a demon. They had accompanied him on the mortal plane for every contract he’d drawn and soul devoured, and they had remained as blackened and charred as his damned soul for all those countless years. A demonic fingerprint, if you will.

 

One long finger ran along the edge of the feather’s vane, blackened nail catching along the bristles and letting it purr like the sound of a comb’s teeth against a sharp edge. A sound only his altered, keen senses could perceive. _What does it mean?_ His wisdom was boundless, an eternity of experiences written into the smears of his putrid existence that he pulled freely upon. Yet even this he could not understand, a change so far from his distorted reality that even a supposedly mythological beast such as he could not comprehend it.

 

_What does it mean?_

A distant sound registered in his ears, though slitted pupils never strayed from the object held in his hands. He could not linger long.

 

Able fingertips twisted the shaft of the feather, watching it spin before him. An abnormal pinched look appeared between his brows, trying to unlock the mystery held in the tiny object before him. It was his own feather, both distinct and indistinct. A slice of hell permanently attached to his corporeal forms. How could he not perceive this change? Surely there had been some sort of sign?

 

In one swift movement, bolstered by a surge of rage at his own incompetence, Sebastian crushed the feather within his grip. As the debris fell like ash from his fist as it slowly, purposefully loosened, the Phantomhive butler turned and strode out of the immaculate servant’s quarters he’d been assigned. _I will think on it later._

 

Behind him, the remains of the feather lay scattered on the floor.

 

They were grey.


	2. Scratch, Repeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian knew that this was the only place he desired to be, watching his master crush vermin beneath the heel of his shoe. Even in the most boring and regular of days, Sebastian is submitted to the uniqueness being Ciel Phantomhive's butler entails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! This chapter is mostly just setting the scene, and a normal day in the Phantomhive manor. I don't recommend you skip it if only for the sake of the important monologues on Sebastian's end. Don't worry, the real action will be coming soon!

Nimble fingers straightened the white wrist cuffs beneath the black tailcoat sleeves, gloved hand rising to rap smartly on the familiar door before him.

 

“Young master?” Sebastian anticipated no answer, like most mornings, and was already twisting the doorknob and easing open the door by the end of his sentence. The morning tea steamed cheerily on the cart behind him as he entered the room, taking in the drawn curtains and tidy space. All his own doing of course. Ciel did not allow Mey-Rin to clean his room, too full of hidden secrets. Sebastian personally thought it was some retention of childhood, clinging to a space he considered safe and denying access to anyone who would compromise that feeling of security. The fact that he alone was allowed to enter freely was like cruel irony. _Am I not the veritable demon that plagues you, young master?_ The butler chuckled softly as he pulled the curtains open, letting the morning sunlight stream in and fall upon the lump beneath the sheets.

 

“Young master, it is time to awaken.” Sebastian needn’t raise his voice any louder nor attempt to physically awaken the Earl. Not only did it have the potential to inspire instinctive violence depending on the night that Ciel had had, but his young master was quite used to awakening rather quickly after Sebastian came to him.

 

True to form the small lump beneath the sheets began to move and undulate, until a head popped out onto the pillow, disgruntled and disheveled. One eye cracked open, navy irises squinting up at where Sebastian was standing at the side of the bed, hands already busy with the teapot. The fragrance enveloped the room, seeming to rouse the rather reluctant Earl from his drowsy stupor with the promise of his morning tea. Thin arms propelled his young master more upright, a yawn cracking a pink mouth and palms digging into familiar eyes to try and rub the sleep from them. Even while he was still rubbing at one eye, Ciel stuck out a hand for the cup that Sebastian has already prepared, and Sebastian handed it to him at the same moment. Sebastian reached forward and pulled the pillow behind Ciel up, allowing the Earl to recline against them as he sipped at his tea before standing back beside the cart and patiently waiting.

 

Ciel hummed softly as the aroma and the first taste of the tea hit his tongue, eyes turning to Sebastian. The demon shuddered with possessive delight to see his mark so plainly and unselfconsciously displayed, a rare sight that he indulged in every morning before the young master was dressed and presented his eye patch. His selfishness was paralleled in Ciel, likely one of the reasons he was so often entertained by his contract with the young Earl. It was a mark that declared their shared possession of one another, Ciel’s greed and Sebastian’s own promised prize of the most exquisite soul he’d ever encountered.

 

“Assam today?” Ciel asked, the grogginess fading from his voice as Sebastian presented the morning newspaper to him, flicking idly through the headlines with practiced ease.

 

“Very astute, young master. Prince Soma deigned to share some of his private stock from India with the Phantomhive household.” The child hummed softly in acknowledgment but went on quietly sipping his tea, summarily discarding the newspaper when no headlines caught his attention.

 

“And the itinerary?” Sebastian folded a hand over his heart and smiled, bowing lightly. So his young master had beaten him to the punch this morning, he noted with amusement.

 

“Yes, my lord. This morning you have a conference with the manufacturers from France concerning the potential new factory for Funtom Company. We will be serving white Darjeeling and peach-almond clafouti in the lounge when you and the guests so desire. This afternoon you have paperwork regarding your contract with Miss Irene to continue using her to advertise the female line of Funtom. When you are finished, Miss Hopkins will be arriving at six in the evening to prepare your winter wardrobe for you.” One glove hand retrieved the empty teacup from his young master’s hands, setting it back on the trolley and raising a brow expectantly at the form on the bed.

 

“What a pain,” the child griped, running a hand through his hair. The French manufacturers were his least favorite of all his national branches, far too arrogant and demanding of the money in his possession. The only amusement derived from the exhausting encounters was watching them squirm between excessive flattery for the sake of his funds and the inherent rudeness of their personalities.

 

Ciel sighed softly and stretched his arms above his head, watching his butler move about and place clothes upon the duvet, swinging his feet out from under the sheets to present his bare legs to Sebastian. The butler knelt gracefully before him, sliding the knee-high socks up the smooth, pale expanse before presenting the young master’s underclothes. He guided his legs into the proper holes and slid them up, cordially averting his eyes though there was no necessity. He’d seen Ciel in all manners of undress and disrepair, had bathed him with his own hands. But it was a butler’s duty, after all.

 

Sebastian wore the white gloves for the purpose of concealing his own half of the contract seal and his blackened nails, but it was a mercy to not feel the supple softness of his master’s skin. So young and untouched, so easily broken, marred, and devoured. He was the epitome of a delicacy for a demon, but he controlled himself as he fastened each silver button and slid the heeled shoes onto Ciel’s small feet. It was a daily routine, but also a daily temptation. The longer he withheld himself however, the more delicious Ciel’s soul would be.

 

The young master stood, sliding from the bed and striding towards the door, one hand outstretched for Sebastian to place his cane into it. This was their routine, and they ran like clockwork, knowing each other’s timings exactly. Together they traversed the hallways, Sebastian rolling the trolley pleasantly behind the young master. Mey-Rin met them in the hallway, and though Sebastian was loathe to hand off the task of returning the trolley to her, there was little choice. The conference members would be arriving soon, and he would be at Ciel’s side during the greeting.

 

“Mey-Rin, if you will. Please inform Bard of the plans for this morning, ask him to begin preparations on the peach-almond clafouti. _Carefully._ ” Mey-Rin squeaked as his demeanor darkened threateningly, nodding so quickly her glasses nearly slipped from her face before turning and hurrying off with the cart. Sebastian sighed, already knowing that he would likely find the china shattered and the clafouti burned to an indistinct pile of ash.

 

Ciel snorted amusedly from where he was momentarily paused in the hallway, turning in a flourish of dark fabric when he noted Sebastian was following once more.

 

Snake was waiting for them at the base of the grand staircase, Emily and Wordsworth readily concealed within his sleeves.

 

“The carriage has arrived, young master,” Snake said in his characteristic softness. Sebastian almost smiled in praise, until – “Says Wordsworth.” The butler sighed. There was still some work to be done.

 

“Show them in,” Ciel commanded, standing on a step in the middle of the staircase, one hand upon his cane and the other resting lightly upon the banister. A commanding, intimidating setup. A substitute for the lack of physical height he’d not been awarded in life. Sebastian stood behind and to the side, a blackened shadow, as uninterested as he could possibly be with the affairs of petty humans like the Frenchmen that came waltzing through the main door.

 

Snake’s welcomes and introductions were overshadowed as Ciel stepped down onto the lower stair, commanding the wandering attention of the workers.

 

“Welcome to Phantomhive Manor, gentlemen.”

 

  * \-   -



 

“Bard, when are you going to learn that machetes are not proper cutting utensils? And truly, trying to brown the edges with a _flamethrower?_ ”

 

The soldier shrank back with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly as Sebastian loomed over him with a pasted-on smile that only made him appear all the more frightening. Although, considering the state of the kitchen – why was Sebastian not used to this, truly? – Bard once more deserved the sinister aura emitting from the butler.

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sebastian grabbed Bard by the back of his shirt and hauled him out of the kitchen beneath a rain of grumbled apologies. Dusting off his palms from the ashen residue that had clung to the chef, Sebastian spun on polished heels and surveyed the damage. Pupils slid into slits, and he waved his hand across the room, restoring it to its previous glory.

 

“Truly, what an imbecile,” he muttered to himself, plucking a knife from the proper drawer and slicing the basket of peaches within moments. Thick, browned pits fell to the counter with deadened thuds and he swept them idly into the waste bin.

 

Really, he had foreseen this.

 

  * \-   -



 

“Pardon me, gentlemen. Today’s tea is white Darjeeling, served with a fruity peach-almond clafouti. Do enjoy,” Sebastian purred softly, the words rote even as his mind wandered. Standing primly behind Ciel’s chair, his eyes descended upon the Frenchmen sitting sprawled arrogant and demanding on the other side of the young master’s desk. They were lower than fleas, hardly even dust motes in the span and scope of his existence. That Ciel bothered with them at all was a sign of the rudimentary status of humans, and the demon resisted the urge to curl his lip in disgust. Their souls were like putrid, rotting fruits. Even if they were _capable_ of managing the sacrifice required to summon him, Sebastian would never have contracted himself to them.

 

If the way Ciel’s foot was tapping meant anything…his young master was thinking the exact same thing. A thrill of excitement trickled through the demon, and his eyes closed in pleasure as he smiled secretively. _With the status of servant, there comes a degree of invisibility._ Even as the gentlemen feasted upon his efforts, he was paid no mind. Ciel, however…

 

Vibrant eyes flickered over to Sebastian, narrowing in contemplation of the look upon his face. Feeling his master’s gaze upon him Sebastian slowly opened one eye, lips sliding into a decadent smirk. Watched as Ciel scoffed softly and turned his attention back to the mongrels growling and groveling at his feet.

 

_You deserve their fear, their worship._

 

Just as he had spoken softly in that laboratory, poisonous gas like a toxic cloud that caressed his skin, Sebastian stared down upon the young Earl. _What I find most entertaining now…is playing the butler in my game with you. It’s not behaving like a frenzied beast._ Red eyes glimmered with Hellfire, watching the way Ciel’s soul resounded within his body, the way it contrasted against the dogfood sitting before the Earl. He felt no hunger, no desire for the souls of the men trying to earn his master’s favor. Instead he could scarcely tear his eyes from Ciel’s, the untouched purity that had attracted the angels wrapped in a shroud of sin, despair, and bloodshed. One he’d helped foster over the years.

 

He _hungered._ Ciel was as perfect of a specimen as he’d ever encountered, a feast rather than a morsel, a vintage wine that deserved to be bottled and kept untouched until centuries passed and then savored for just as long. The barest taste he’d managed in Germany, Ciel’s writhing body clasped within the smoke and sin of his power, had only made him all the more aware of the finery that Ciel’s soul was crafted of. It was the only beast that remained inside him, as his fondness for the young master grew with each month he spent at the Earl’s side. His daily life was the new Game, the end no longer a stronger temptation than the present. Ciel’s manipulations and machinations were befitting a full-fledged demon, and yet he still exuded such innocence and helpless human attachment to those around him.

 

It was like a delightful cocktail of perfection, and Sebastian was allowed to partake in it every single day.

 

“Sebastian, do see these gentlemen out.”

 

The demon did not allow his surprise to show upon his face, merely bowing and turning his eyes to Ciel. The Earl was watching him intently, clearly aware of the change in his butler but not sure as to why it existed. _So perceptive, young master._

 

“This way, if you please.”

 

  * \-   -



 

The afternoon settled about the manor like a blanket of quietude, offering Ciel the ability to concentrate on his paperwork. Irene’s demands were not without justification, and the contract she’d drawn up was concise and properly detailed – as expected from an opera singer who negotiated with performance houses all across England. Still, Ciel would not attach his signature nor house crest to anything without reading through every line carefully.

 

Only after he had signed his name at the end of the last paper did he sigh and place his hands upon his temples, fingers gently rubbing. He startled slightly as cloth-covered fingers settled over his own, gently replacing them as able hands rubbed and massaged away the ache and strain. Ciel sighed softly, reclining his head and tilting into Sebastian’s hands to allow the butler to ease the pain.

 

_You are so trusting, like a lamb,_ Sebastian thought to himself, watching Ciel’s eyes slip shut. With the barest twitch of his wrists, he could snap Ciel’s neck. He’d done so quite often in his years, either too tired, bored, or ravenous to deal with the pest he’d deigned to form a contract with. It was within the rules, after all. He need not help them accomplish their goals eternally, and he’d even prepared to consume Ciel when it had appeared his young lord would not wholly return. Yet Ciel lay his head within Sebastian’s hands, completely docile in ways he would not be with any other. It created an odd sensation in Sebastian’s chest, where a human heart ought to lay but did not. He had already determined that this daily life was more important to him, but it did not wholly explain _why._

 

“Is your eye causing you trouble once more, my lord?” It was a quiet inquiry in the easy silence of the study, but Ciel merely snorted, not even bothering to open his eyes.

 

“It always bothers me, idiot.” But there was an undercurrent of softness, something that spoke of gratitude and affection, if Sebastian were to dare to label it as such.

 

Wearing an eye patch created a great deal of strain on Ciel’s left eye, and he was very sensitive to light when he did remove the patch on his right. Paperwork was the hardest part, focusing so intently on such small text was not beneficial. Especially after the scare with the mustard gas.

 

Sebastian rubbed softly until Ciel finally smacked his hands away, rising from his chair and accepting the cane that Sebastian offered him. The small child turned, glancing up at his butler.

 

“Nina is already here, correct?” Sebastian folded a hand over his heart and smiled, bowing in acquiescence. He took no insult at the gesture, so familiar and arrogant as it was from his young master. The demon knew that Ciel could accept coddling only for a small amount of time, and could not admit to many weaknesses aside. That he’d even allowed Sebastian to help ease the ache was a veritable miracle.

 

“Yes, my lord. She is in the lounge harassing Mey-Rin, I believe.” That, at least, garnered a shudder from Ciel. They both knew it would be him next, after all, with how Nina obsessed over his slight figure and feminine physique.

 

The Earl squared his shoulders, as if it would do any good when he was confronted with the exuberant, liberal woman.

 

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

 

  * \-   -



 

“Ciel!” Nina gushed as Sebastian held the door open for the slate-haired boy, immediately dropping Mey-Rin and rushing over to the Earl. The maid quickly scrambled out the door, Sebastian closing it easily behind her as she retreated.

 

“My, you’re just as adorable as when I fitted you for Easter!” The squealing gushing was underscored by hands that swept over the Earl, pinching pale cheeks and tracing the soft curve of his chin. Ciel swatted away her wandering, groping hands with familiar ease, a flush coloring across his cheeks despite the dismissive movements. Unbothered, Nina’s eyes lifted to Sebastian if only to satisfy the ever-running speed of her attention. The seamstress grew rigid as they locked eyes, the two engaging in a momentary glaring match.

 

“Mr. Strict,” she huffed haughtily as she bustled Ciel over to the stool she’d already prepared in the middle of the room, clearly dismissing him. Sebastian of course would do no such thing and trailed behind the pair of them on long, ambling legs.

 

“Miss Hopkins,” Sebastian acknowledged primly, voice chilled and overly respectful. The woman cast her venomous glance at him, her tape measure already stretching along the expanse of Ciel’s body. Sebastian was still grudgingly impressed by the speed with which she could disrobe his young master, and wondered if _she_ was not part demon as well. He certainly wouldn’t be surprised if she were. Of course Ciel was still left in his thin long-sleeved shirt and shorts. Another mishap with the brand would not be desirable, after all.

 

Nina, of course, would not stand for that at all. They were back to the routine song and dance within moments, Sebastian laying down the necessary boundaries while Ciel stuttered and flushed. Even Sebastian could understand Nina’s infatuation as he stood pressed so close to a nearly-nude Ciel, one palm securely covering the brand seared into his master’s skin.

 

The Earl was the dream of every English girl, both in body and name. Soft, supple skin like new milk, a thin waist and tiny body. Small, delicately proportioned limbs. Big, expressive eyes. Eyes that Ciel had worked tirelessly to conceal, in those weeks where he and Sebastian had set out to learn the proper skills required of Butler and Earl as quickly as possible. They had always been his downfall, but also the reason for successes – the case in Weston College being the prime example. He was struck again by the profound hunger, the near-human desire to take and touch. That Nina was able to spread her skin against the Earl’s without fear or obstruction…the demon was struck with a fierce and unyielding possessiveness, a jealousy of her freedoms and abilities.

 

_Do you not bathe him with your own hands? Control yourself._

 

“Ahhh, Earl you got even thinner! What kind of butler are you Mr. Strict?!” Sebastian’s eyes narrowed upon the fuming woman, her clipboard in hand with the measurements written upon them.

 

“I assure you the young master receives more than adequate sustenance, Miss Hopkins. It has merely been a trying time for him.” Ah, of course. The emotional approach always worked on such flighty and endeared women like Nina Hopkins. In an instant she was throwing her arms around the child, ignoring his squalling and apologizing in a loud, tearful manner.

 

Sebastian hid his smirk behind his hand, shoulder shaking with amusement as Ciel glared and spat like a hissing cat. He’d save him soon enough.

 

At least he could enjoy the show.

 

 

  * \-   -



 

“I’m exhausted, Sebastian. I’d like to retire.”

 

The demon lifted his eyes to the young Earl, and escorted him silently through the door. The hour was indeed getting late, and it was clear that Ciel had had quite enough of the antics throughout the day. Their pace was subdued as they traversed the halls, a testament to the state of the Earl’s energy levels. His crabby attitude had drifted into a sullen silence, the barb of his tongue dulled instead of sharp and lashing. Not that he had been any less formidable throughout the evening, he and Sebastian trading insults and subtle jibes as freely as they always did. _Are you incapable of showing even an emotion such as affection without defenses?_

Sebastian undressed him quietly, folding the clothes and arranging the sheets. With careful fingers Sebastian dressed the nude form in a loose white shirt, the temptation of the day ringing in his cavernous husk as he slipped the buttons through the appropriate holes. Until at last Ciel removed his eyepatch to place it upon his nightstand, the lilac eye opening to regard Sebastian with both optics once more. The Faustian contract was hardly visible, dulled as it was when Ciel was not uttering an order. The pair regarded one another in silence, illuminated only by the familiar glow of the candelabrum. Ciel finally swung his legs up onto the bed, allowing Sebastian to pull the covers close around his neck. Whatever language had transpired between them went unnoted.

 

New clothes were not the only necessity with the coming of winter, and the Earl’s predisposition towards lung related problems – further aggravated by the mustard gas incident in Germany – ensured they would have to be extra careful with the coming cold.

Sebastian turned and strode quietly towards the door, face turning over his shoulder to watch as Ciel’s eyes drooped and the lines around his face softened with oncoming sleep.

 

“Goodnight, my lord.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? As always please leave a comment! I read and reply to every single one, and they're a huge benefit to you because they make me update so much faster! I don't like rushing the plot, and this is a slow burn, but I do update regularly so nothing to fear! Speaking of, what are your preferences for update days, if any at all? Once a week, twice a week, every Thursday, every blood moon? Share in the comments below! And lastly what do you think of the formatting? Should the spaces between each paragraph be smaller?

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Prologues are always hard for me, as I have to remind myself that they are not simply the first chapter or the intro haha. The first real chapter will be coming up tonight in quick succession to try and garner more interest in this story! Please leave comments, I do truly live off them and they make me write so much faster haha.


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